It’s lovely, first-day-of-November morning for Willo. The sun is bright and cheery after last night’s cloudy windstorms, with a crisp autumn breeze. He’s wearing a warm sweater and scarf, sipping coffee from a tiny toy teacup, rereading his favorite book, with his little flower golem next to him, life is good.
He doesn’t even startle. Even though his sister is perfectly capable of navigating their house on her own, their mental link snaps into place anyways. He looks over at her.
She’s panicked, clutching her hair with her hands. He doesn’t bother giving her a skeptical expression. The unfortunate part of her method of sight forces her to witness the world from his eyes, meaning she can always see herself but almost never sees him.
“WILLO I SLEPT THROUGH HALLOWEEN”
“Nononono I wanted to go trick or treatingggg…”
She dramatically flops down onto the couch, placing a hand to her forehead.
(But we are entirely too old for that by now.)
“Nonsense! We are- wait, how old are we?”
“Nineteen- I can’t- we’re rotting before our very eyes, Willo! Us!? Adults?!!”
(I don’t particularly feel like I’m dying.)
She stands, beginning to pace the room.
“We both know what happens when people become adults, though. They lose all their whimsy and start talking about making sense and being practical. No, Willo, we must not become adults, it will be the end of our very being.”
(I suppose you’re right. Still, Halloween is over.)
“Then we will simply have to celebrate UnHalloween.”
(Nobody is going to go along with that.)
“Since when have we cared about what anybody else thinks, hmm? As long as we’re having fun, it matters very little what some sorry adult thinks of our games.”
(…hmm. I see your logic.)
“Then there is nothing left to do but to begin. Onward!”
areudirty
titsay